Cool, um… I mean hot food.
Those of you who like my recipes might want to check this place out:
http://bengalicuisine.wordpress.com/
Download warning, she has a lot of pictures. I have no idea if it’s going to be slow on dial up because, you know, I’m fast now. (enormous, obnoxious grin.) (with eyebrow wiggle)
The Road to Death
I got this in email a long time ago, but it keeps coming to mind. I thought I’d share. *evil grin*
Stremnaya Road is nicknamed “The Road of Death”
And you will take no convincing as to how appropriate that is..
Cranberry Chicken
This is one of those quick and easy foods I love. The taste can take a little getting used to, but is great once you get over the idea of sweet chicken.
chicken, cut up
1/4 c chopped onions
1/2 c condensed cranberry juice 
Place chicken pieces in a casserole dish. Sprinkle onions over the top. Pour
cranberry juice over chicken and onions. Put in 350 deg oven for 45 minutes or
until done.
See. I told you it was easy.
Hit the Road Jack
Jill: Want some? I just made it. It’s trail mix.
Jack: Trail mix? That isn’t trail mix. There aren’t any granola bits in it.
Jill: It is too trail mix. It doesn’t have to have granola.
Jack: Yes it does.
Jill: No it doesn’t.
Jack: Yes it does.
Jack: I guess it doesn’t after all.
.
Today’s theme is road.
Previously in Jack and Jill: Here Kitty
saturday photo scavenger hunt
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Suzie’s House 85: Home Sweet Home
Everything was weird. They hadn’t caught the bad guys, but all of a sudden Mom wanted him back. She wouldn’t tell him why either, but she’d glance at Drew every time Ben asked. Ben wasn’t sure if he liked Drew for making Mom take him back, or if he was still mad at him for, well, not for making him go but…..
Plus there was something going on between Vin and Miranda. Maybe there was something going on there before and Ben just didn’t notice it until now. But it felt weird knowing they were together.
It was the same old living room, and same old bedroom, though he found an earring under his bed. He didn’t even want to know what that was about. Everything looked the same, but nothing felt the same.
Before, it had felt safe.
Ben wandered into the kitchen and instead of Mom, there was Miranda. She had Mom’s recipe file. Ben got the feeling she wasn’t supposed to have it because she jumped, and tried to hide it when he walked in.
“Hey,” he said in place of “hi.” “What are you doing?”
Miranda straightened. Her fingers messed with the cards in the file. “What does it look like?” Before he could answer, she answered for him. “I’m cooking.”
“Oh. That’s right. Everyone has a night assigned for being the cook. Except me. I never got a night.”
“You want one?”
Ben shrugged. He’d never done much cooking, but then neither did Miranda. Maybe he could do as good a job. At least with her looking through the file, she must not be ordering pizza. He was thoroughly sick and tired of pizza.
“What’cha making?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t decided.”
The two of them leaned over the file.
“Chutney? Apple butter? Elk Stroganoff? What is this?” Ben pulled out a card and held it up. “Some kind of pie that takes bushels of apples? Do they mean bushels like the bushel baskets? Cause I’m pretty sure that won’t fit in one pie.” Ben tried to remember what they’d said about bushels in math class. It wasn’t that long ago, but he couldn’t see clear, and maybe never had understood all that well. “And what is ‘suet’ anyway?”
“Those are family recipes.” Miranda said, like Ben hadn’t already figured that out. “I don’t think she uses the ones in the section at the back much. We should leave them alone.”
“Huh,” Ben snorted, thinking about the time Miranda threw the whole file box into the toilet. He didn’t say anything, but he slid her a side-long look. “Are those water stains?”
“Maybe.” She cut him a sharp look. “Oh, look. So this is what she uses to make that muffin batter .” She waved a card like it was a flag, the kind sailers used to talk between ships.
“Is that what we’re making?”
“Sure.” Miranda shoved the card back in the file box. “There’s some batter in the fridge right now. So we’ll have muffins, and…. Um…” She bit her lip and looked at another card.
“Do we have any steak thawed? Or did we already go through the side of beef Mom ordered last fall.”
“There’s meat left, but I’m getting tired of steak. How about chicken?”
“Oh yeah! I love cranberry chicken!”
“Cranberry chicken?” Miranda pulled her chin back, one lip lifted. It made her look like a dork. Ben grinned. He liked that she didn’t mind looking like a dork.
“It’s in here somewhere.” Ben grabbed out a bunch of cards. He found it pretty quick. It was something Mom used to make a lot before all these stupid grown ups moved in. “Here it is.” He handed it to Miranda.
“This doesn’t look too hard.” She did the lip-biting thing while she read it. “All right. So we need a pan, and some cranberry juice concentrate, and… do we have chicken?”
“I don’t know.” Ben shrugged. After a minute with her looking at him like he could pull a chicken out of the air, he poked around in the fridge, then the freezer. “Here’s some.”
“Score!” She said with a grin.
The two of them worked good together. They got the stuff put in the oven, and he was pretty sure they did it right, even if they didn’t stop to brown the onions and everything started out frozen. When she closed the oven with a thud, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Why’d you do it, anyway,” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Throw Mom’s recipe file in the toilet.” He watched her real close, waiting to see if she’d treat him like a grown up, or ruffle his hair and walk away. If she ruffled his hair, he’d put her ear ring somewhere she wouldn’t like, maybe the chandelier in the dining room, or hanging off the tree in the front yard.
“She told you about that, huh?” She didn’t look at him at first, just stared at the little glass window in the oven. Then she straightened up and looked at him square. “It was the only thing I could do that would hurt her as bad as she hurt me.”
“What did she do to you?” He joined her, looking at their chicken cook as if that could make it cook faster.
“She told me if I made her choose, she’d choose your father over me.” Miranda blinked a couple of times.
“Ouch.” Ben knew exactly how she felt. He patted her on the shoulder, knowing it wasn’t enough to make up for a hurt that could last a long, long time.
“What’s going on in here?” Mom’s voice came from right behind them.
Ben almost jumped out of his skin. Recipe cards were scattered all over the counter. They couldn’t possibly get them all back in the box, and hide the box, fast enough. When Mom saw she’d have a cow!
Thursday Thriteen #44: 13 Things Google Thinks I Need
I got this one from Double Decker Busses
I Googled “Alice needs” and this is what I got:
1. Alice needs only one wheatgrass shake, some positive thinking, a crash course in California lingo and a …
(I do?)
2. Alice needs a new true love.
(Mr. Al and I beg to differ.)
3. Alice needs a loving home (Cihangir). Reply to: comm-780964045@craigslist.org Date: 2008-08-03, 8:51AM EEST. Alice is a 5 month old kitten
4. Alice Needs To Learn The Days Of The Week.
(Um… Yeah. Well, maybe.)
5. YouTube – Alice needs the loo.
(LOL. Now if only I could use it without my son frisking for reading material.)
6. Alice needs a home! – Montréal Cats & Kittens For Sale – Kijiji …
(Actually, I have one. But thanks anyway.)
7. RE: “ALICE NEEDS A LOVING HOME” (Mission Accomplished) “ALICE NEEDS A LOVING HOME” Alice is a 40 year old white Cockatoo, She is very intelligent and quite set in her ways.
(But I like mine the way it is. Hmmm… anyone else seeing a pattern here?)
8. MySpace music profile for Acid Trip Alice [NEEDS A LEAD GUITARISTTT]
(Um.. no… but I’ll take one anyway.)
9. See all Smack Alice Needs Opener July Jobs, Arts, Entertainment & Media Jobs in Cleveland including temp jobs, volunteer jobs, and part-time employment.
10. Brides’ Beauty editor Alice needs your help girls! | Brides Magazine
11. Alice needs help! – Globalpaw.com Dog Forum
12. Alice needs to get her tan before coming home on Flickr Photo Sharing
(I wish! I don’t tan. Ever.)
13. Alice Needs : WhitePages.com
(There are people with “Needs” as a last name? Whaoh.)
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By George! How to Engineer a Royal Reconciliation.
So, in last week’s installment of By George! George III came up with a solution to all George IV’s problems. I shudder to think.
The Prince must have known that his wife had the Kings ear, if not his sympathy. And Caroline gave His Majesty an earful regarding Lady Jersey. The King didn’t need to be convinced of Lady Jersey’s disruptive influence. The Queen had been relating stories to him gathered from a wide cross section of sources. For His Majesty, the solution was obvious. Lady Jersey had to go.
Near the end of June 1796, Princess Caroline got her hearts desire. Sort of. The Queen gave Caroline assurances, in writing, that Lady Jersey would be sacked. But, the Queen continued, with her ladyship out of the picture she expected the Princess to do everything in her power to make a go of her marriage. She and the Prince MUST be reconciled.
Caroline agreed to this and to that end wrote a letter to the Prince. She stated that she looked forward to the day that the two of them would once again be husband and wife under the same roof; that roof being Carlton House. She said that if His Highness would seek out her company she would do whatever it took to be pleasant and agreeable. She also begged the Princes’ forgiveness for past unpleasant behavior. It wouldn’t happen again.
This is the reply from the Prince: “Madam, I have had the honor of receiving your letter this day and propose having the pleasure of being at Carlton House sometime in the course of Monday.” He would be happy to see Carlton House again. That must have made Caroline’s toes tingle. At least it was a start; or so Princess Caroline thought.
The Prince arrived for dinner and was as cold and formal as he could be. To make Reconciliation Night one to remember, he left immediately after dinner to spend the night with Lady Jersey. Lady Jersey had been sacked, but telling the Prince to stay away from her only encouraged him to spend more time with her than ever before.
Her Ladyship, hoping to rub salt in the wound, wrote to Caroline saying that the only reason she had stayed on as long as she had, in a situation “rendered impossible for a person of her rank, or indeed for anyone possessing the honest pride and spirit of an Englishwoman was her duty and attachment to his Royal Highness.”
So there!
It seems clear that the King believed that sacking Lady Jersey would clear the decks for a real reconciliation. While Princess Caroline professed a desire to be reconciled, it would have been very surprising if her heart had been in it. Remember, upon first meeting the Prince, she found him fat, ugly and rude. It never really improved from there. The Prince found Caroline to be physically repugnant and stupid. Nothing that subsequently occurred led him to revise his opinion upward.
It would seem that the only one who thought the marriage would work was the king. And even with him it was more a case of “they have a duty to make it work” rather than a sincere belief that these people belonged together. In George the Third’s happy world, the marriage, any marriage, could be made to work if it’s principle players put aside personal differences and conformed to social standards. That’s what social standards were for! To give everyone a template by which they could form their lives.
It was so simple that the King never considered the possibility of another approach. Besides, he was King wasn’t he? Head of the Supreme Church? Why the hell should he consider another approach? Reconciliation was what the kingdom needed. Reconciliation is what His Majesty personally expected. By God, reconciliation was what he and England were going to get!
The Prince had other ideas. Lady Jersey was sacked, that meant she could no longer reside at Carlton House. But didn’t the poor lass need a roof over her head? Of course she did. Surely the King never intended that a lady of rank should be turned out like a scullery maid. Fortunately a solution was at hand. Jack Payne had a house, “had” being the operative word here. He lost it when he lost his job as the Prince’s private secretary.
And it just happened to be next door to Carlton House. Not even the Prince thought that the King would tolerate such an obvious move. He had to put a positive spin on it. Thank goodness Lady Jersey still had her elderly hubby. Once the Queen got wind of the move she demanded an explanation. The Prince was ready. The move, he wrote to Her Majesty, was done entirely for the benefit of the Earl of Jersey, who happened to be the Prince’s Master of the Horse. An impressive job title.
The Prince didn’t mention that he had yet to pay the Earl for all his services. If indeed he had rendered any. No point in bothering mom with all the trivial details. He told Her Majesty that the Earl “could not be answerable to bring the whole expenditure of the stables within the sum allotted by Parliament unless he were perpetually upon the spot, which he could not be had he to run eternally two or three times a day to and from Grosvenor Square.” You see mom, it’s Parliaments fault! Parliament forced me to move my mistress into the house next to mine.
Alas for the Prince, every tiny crumb of happiness that he happened to chance upon was snatched from his hands by the Bitch of Brunswick. And nothing about the Princess bothered him more than what she might be saying about him. Or, more accurately, what she might be saying to other men about him. Or, perhaps even more accurately, what the Princess might be saying about him to other men before, during or after shagging them.
– Mr. Al
Plus a Penny
I’ve bought a lot of Papa Murphies pizza over the last few years. I’m down there so often they know me by name. I almost always use a coupon, which brings the price to something like $7.99 or $9.99 or some such. This means if I give them a $10 bill, or $8.00, or whatever, they owe me a penny. Just a penny. I do this frequently.
What gets me is that they always ask me if I want the penny.
See, the thing is I’m a cheapskate. I want the stupid penny. Every time I have to tell them I want the penny, I feel like even more of a cheep skate. What I wish is that they wouldn’t ask, but would automatically give it to me. If I didn’t want it, I’d let them know.
Am I alone in this? Does no one else care about the penny? Should I make an effort to give them larger bills so they have to give me more than a penny? But wait, last time I did that they STILL asked. Sigh. What would you do?
Spoon Bread
Mildly modified from the Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book.
2 c milk
1 c cornmeal
1 c milk – yes, another one. Don’t just lump it in with the first.
2 Tbs butter
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
3 eggs separated whites from yolks
Set the oven for 325. Separate the yolks into a bowl large enough to hold a little over a cup and the whites into something comfortable for whipping. Get out your beaters, but don’t beat yet. Put the cornmeal in a saucepan. Stir 2 of the cups of milk into it. Cook, stirring constantly, until very thick and pulling away from the sides of the pan. I go with a medium to low heat for this so I don’t scald or curdle it. Turn the burner off. Stir in the other cup of milk, along with the butter, salt, and baking powder. Take a cup of the mix out and add it to the yolks, mixing up well, then return to the sauce pan. Yeah, you could just crack the yolk into the hot mix and risk curdling, but why chance it? It’s only one more dish to wash. Beat the whites to a stiff whip. Fold it into the mix. Turn the whole thing into a greased 2-quart casserole. Bake at 325 for about 50 minutes, until a knife stuck into the center comes out clean. Serve right away, cause it’s a soufflé and it’s going to fall. Supposed to serve 8 but 4 of us decimated it in one meal. This one I added ½ c. grated Colby cheese. Mmmmm.
Here Kitty
Jill: Gin! Gin, where are you? Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Tonic, stay close. Jack let the grass get too long. It’s like a jungle back here.
Jill: Eeeeek! That isn’t Gin. That’s a tiger!
Jill: Run away, Tonic! Faster! I’m catching up.
Previously in Jack and Jill Serenade
saturday photo scavenger hunt
The rules for Photohunt can be found here.
Today’s theme is Wild.
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Suzie’s House 84: Reconciliation
Suzies’s House is an on-going story. You can find a new episode here in Alice’s Restaurant every Friday. To see previous episodes click on the highlighted words, or on the Suzie’s House category in my side bar.
Sean grinned as he dropped into the front seat of a 68 Camero. Some idiot actually left it out on the street without locking it. Admittedly it was a rusted bucked of bolts, but it was a classic bucket of bolts.. He smashed in the brittle plastic under the ignition and yanked out the wires.
He was still sorting them out when he saw the kid.
It was that boy, the one who reminded him of himself. The one Joe didn’t want him to have anything to do with.
The kid was sitting on the steps leading into the 4-square apartment building across the street and down the way, just sitting there. You could tell he would rather be somewhere else. Sean knew the feeling well. When Sean was that age, he’d have leapt at a chance to be somewhere else.
How hard would it be to scoop him up?
Better not. He’d only stopped to jack the car because he wanted in on the latest round of the Smash Em Up Derby, due to start in ten minutes. Joe would have a fit if he brought the kid back with him, especially after having caused a few hit-and-runs with the kid in the car. He might even kill the boy for being an eye witness.
Joe was so overprotective that way.
Maybe he could sneek the kid into the new crib while Joe was out. He could put the kid behind the wheel. If they got caught, it would all be the kid’s fault. Caugh jacking the car, or speeding, or whatever- the kid did it. The kid wouldn’t do any time because he was under age. If they didn’t get caught, then he still couldn’t rat him out because he was behind the wheel.
If nothing else he could go over and talk to the boy, tell him a few things about pipe bombs and other ways to keep yourself entertained.
Before Sean could act on any of these impulses, a Subaru Legacy drove up to the curb. That woman – the kid’s mother – got out.
They argued for a while. It looked like the kidd didn’t want to go with her. Stoop-shouldered, she’d already turned away, headed back for the car, then the kid came racing down the steps and up the walkway.
Damn! The guy who shot him was driving! Sean flopped over on the seat, deathly afraid the man had seen him. A car door opened, then another. Sean held his breath, listening for the scrape of shoes on concrete coming his way. Instead another car door opened, then all the car doors slammed closed.
Sean edged up enough to look over the dashboard. The Subaru drove away with the kid in the back seat.
Oh well. There’d be a chance some other time. Sean was sure of it.
Sitting there, watching like a mouth breather cost Sean too much time. A middle aged man with a beer gut and more hair on his knuckles than on his head came jiggling out of the apartment complex next to the Camero. He was red in the face and yelling.
Sean locked the doors.
Cool as a cucumber, he finished hot wireing the car, then drove away while the man pounded on the roof, windows, and trunk.
“So long, sucker,” he yelled out the window.
Thurdsay Thirteen #43:Things My Kids Have Said To Me
These are all things my teenager and nearly teenager have said to or near me in the last few months.
1 – You’re taking pictures of me? Not now, Mom. Book Cover Lad has to go to school. – ds
2 – You know what’s really, really cool about when I get wet? I can just rub the pimples off. -ds
3 – Here. For your birthday. (Hands over an empty envelope.) I meant to put something in it – dd.
4 – I had this dream… (You don’t want to hear the rest. Suffice it to say it went on for half an hour with barely a moment wasted on breathing.) – both
5. Easier than pie. I say easier because pie can be a math term, and that’s not easy. – dd
6. Mom, you’re not going to the bathroom, are you? Wait, let me frisk it first. (He went in to remove all reading material) – ds
7. (While arguing over whether or not her shoes are too big) It isn’t a f-a-c-t. It’s a f-a-d. – dd
8. Me: The point is you’re on your own for lunch.
Boy: That’s OK. I know how to make it and how to eat it. I’m covered.
9. (Regarding a metal lawn chair sitting in a gazebo) It feels like I’m sitting on a statue. -dd
10. (After making choking noise twice) I just breathed in my Altoid. Again. – dd
11. (After watching a movie trailer for a kung fu movie) I don’t know. (It looks) too Brady Bunch. – dd
12. What is this sock doing in my load? You’re mooching off my laundry! Again! -ds
13. (Overheard phone conversation) No! Don’t drop the phone in the toilet! giggle, giggle. – dd
14. Bonus quote from my sister:
How’s the blob coming. You know, that thing you do on the computer.
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By George! What is a Prince to Do?
When we left off last week, Lady Jersey had received the cut direct in a way even she could not ignore. What did Prince George think of it?
If the Prince believed this whole fuss would eventually go away if he kept his head down, he like Lady Jersey, was in for a nasty shock. The Prince’s behavior was beginning to draw public criticism onto the whole family. Princes and princesses, the King and Queen, were all taking heat for allowing the Prince to treat Caroline so badly. Now that the Prince’s chickens were coming home to roost on THEIR doorsteps they were no longer so willing to look the other way regarding his bad habits.
Some of them were not going to remain silent either. Wrote Princess Elizabeth to her brother; “We are one and all very miserable about you, and what we have suffered passes all power of expression…Friends and foes are all of the opinion that a reconciliation must take place for the sake of the country and the whole family, for if you fall all must fall, and then with your excellent heart how could you bear the distress and misery of your own family. I am sorry, very sorry to write these sever and cruel truths, but alas!…if you could see the agony of mind of our poor mother and the distress she is in I am sure you would not be able to stand it and would make a sacrifice for her sake.”
What is amazing is that, after all the Prince put mom and dad through up to this point, that any member of the family could write something like that.
As icing on the cake, the Prince discovered that his friends were also making appeals on Caroline’s behalf. Not so much because they cared for Caroline, but because any reconciliation would naturally involve getting rid of Lady Jersey for good and all.
Lord Hugh Seymore referred to her as “that bitch.” Jack Payne, the Princes private secretary, was fired because he refused to play nice with her. Everyone who hated Lady Jersey realized that the only way to get rid of her, short of tying a rock around her neck and throwing her into the Thames, was to champion Caroline and press for reconciliation.
The Prince found himself in hell. His family had turned on him, his friends, whom he expected more sympathy from than his family, were even worse. Why couldn’t they see what he could see plain as day, that his wife was conspiring with, well, with everyone in England to make him look bad? At least Lady Jersey said nice things about him. SHE knew the truth!
He pored out his heart in a letter to mom that must have caused her to question her boys sanity. It was full of “dearest, dearest, dearest mother.” His “most beloved mother” and his “ever best and dearest mother.” The Queens initial response to this was probably any moms response to a kid who lays it on so thick. “What does he want this time?” What he wanted was a favor. Would mummy dearest go to daddykins and get him, in his capacity as King of England, to denounce his wife. In public, of course. If the King wanted to slap her around on the steps of St. Paul’s that would be a nice touch. But His Majesty really, really needed to let the public know that he was behind his son one hundred and ten percent.
Wrote the Prince; “The King must be resolute and firm, or everything is at an end. Let him recall to his mind the want of firmness of Louis 16. This is the only opportunity for him to stemm (the Prince’s spelling) the torrent…I know you will fight for me till the last, and I for you, and by you till the last drop of blood, but if ever you flinch, which I am convinced is impossible, I shall then despair.”
It’s hard to tell if he was writing to the Queen about his wife or an invasion from France.
It’s very doubtful that the Queen shared this communication with her husband. The King did write to his boy on the subject. He sent the Prince a letter to inform him that his position hadn’t changed. Caroline had her faults, but it was nothing a firm and loving husband couldn’t handle. More to the point, the King had what he considered to be a solution to at least one of the Prince’s marital woes. A solution, moreover, that might go a long way toward fixing everything.
Are You Beached?
I looked into the bathtub the other day, and what did I see? A natural disaster. Poor little toy boats all huddled by the drain, bereft of their water, abandoned to an uncaring fate, left behind.
One glance and I knew exactly how they felt.
When you see some inanimate object that could not possibly have any feeling at all, do you have a poignant moment anyway? Do you think it’s a good thing, or a bad thing?
